In the Balance
by Garowyn
Summary: Hangman’s Curse Prologue posted Ian Snyder was all for revenge. Now nothing is what it seems anymore. Ian knows it’s no longer a game. But what can he do? His loyalties are torn… DISCONTINUED for now.


**A/N: I own nothing. This is an alternate version of Hangman's Curse, obviously with different outcomes, etc. I follow the book for the most part (I favor the book more) and I tried my best to get everyone's character right. Updates depend on where I am at personally with writing and updating other fics of mine. I like the friendship between Ian and Elijah so there will be more of that but don't worry; I don't write slash.**

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PROLOGUE

It was the day of the football game between Baker and Whitman High, a game most important since whatever team came out with the victory, that team would be the one to move closer to the championships. Thus, every student, teacher, and parent rooting for Baker High were fraught with nervousness and hopefulness, none no more anxious than the football team itself. Their school and hometown was depending on them so they were determined to elude defeat lest they disappoint their fans.

Of course not everyone cared about the football game, more specifically Ian Snyder, one of the resident Goth students. In fact, he could care less whether the Baker Hawks won or lost. It wouldn't matter anyhow; one of their star players would be hitting the dirt soon. Not permanently, mind you, just temporarily. Ian would never go so far as to kill someone out of revenge. It would bring too much attention anyway, a lot more than the attention he'd probably receive once the Curse kicked in.

The Curse of Abel Frye—Hangman's Curse.

The teenager clad in black made his way unhurriedly to the stands, not caring that he would be sitting alone. Oh sure, he had friends, friends who were very similar to him but none wanted to come to the football game, at least not today. They were…busy.

The game started in half and hour. Ian was in no rush; the real fun would come soon. It wasn't likely that the seats at the top of the stands would be filled right away. The fans wanted to be as close as possible to the action, ready to cheer their lungs out and gloat at the rival fans in triumph because of having the best seats in the house.

Football players of both teams were currently in their dressing rooms but it seemed a few from the home team had decided to leave for a moment to confirm something. Two goons in their football uniforms were marching behind their leader, Jim Boltz, one of the "jocks" in school, who wasn't dressed in his own uniform yet. "Hey Snyder." Jim sneered, grabbing Ian by the collar of his trench coat and shoving him against the tree. There weren't a whole lot of people around save for a few scattered teenagers who didn't dare interfere with the predator and it's prey. Or perhaps it was the other way around… "You'd better not try anything funny today, you wimp."

Ian did not answer but merely gazed at Jim with a blank look in his eyes.

"Aw, Boltz, don't tell me you believe in that kid stuff?" One of the goons remarked despite the fact that he was speaking to the head of their little wolf pack.

The other goon laughed.

"No, I don't," Jim responded irritably. "But I'm pretty darn sure something, or some_one_, is behind all this." He finished pointedly, referring to the last students, friends of his, who were in the hospital due to unexplainable occurrences.

Ian allowed a small secretive grin to cross his pale face. He definitely knew what Jim's suspicions were.

Jim snarled and shoved him once more, this time to the ground, but it was fruitless for Ian was able to catch himself, just barely, before actually hitting the ground. The youth stumbled to his feet and cast a glance over his shoulder one last time, to make sure they were gone. They were.

Not the least bit embarrassed, Ian chuckled softly to himself and took a different route to the stands.

Upon entering the dressing room, Jim felt an uneasy feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard as he opened his locker, grabbing his uniform and proceeding to change. Suddenly something itched horribly on his shoulder and he clapped his hand over it, scratching furiously.

"Hey Jim, you all right?" A nearby player asked, lacing up his shoes.

Several moments passed before Jim grunted, "Yeah."


End file.
